


Amatus

by MustardGal



Series: Lavender and Daggers [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardGal/pseuds/MustardGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor decides to scout out a rift with Cole, but encounter problems when they fall into a cavern instead where the rift happens to be.  Heavily injured after the battle, they're brought back to camp and it's that night when the Inquisitor and Dorian start to realize they mean more to each other than they realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amatus

            Rain.  There was nothing but rain. It came down in sheets, blanketing the ground a shimmering sheen of wetness.   The sky was nothing but a bleak spread of grey clouds, hovering in between black and grey.  There were a few white clouds, the rebels.  They teased at the thought of having a break from the rain, but no.  It didn’t happen. The rain kept pouring, making the Inquisitor’s life miserable.

            The horses didn’t seem to mind.  Kievon’s own dracolisk seemed to enjoy it, in fact.  The Storm Coast wasn’t being kind to the rest of them.  The sky was darkening and a fog started to settle amongst the rain.

            “We’ll stop here for tonight,” Kievon called out, halting his dracolisk and hopping off, his thighs protesting at the long day ride.  He had ridden all his life, and his muscles should have been used to it, but he hadn’t ridden this constantly in just a few short span of weeks.  His thighs were an absolute nightmare.

            Dorian stepped off his horse, water dripping from his shoulders in a large splash. “At least we’re clean.”

            Having overheard his comment, Vivenne scoffed but made no comment.  She grabbed her pack and the tent, and headed off with a grumble about “living like peasants.”  Cassandra moved to follow her, her hood drawn over her face.  All the ladies shared the same tent, while the men shared two other tents. 

            Living this close together brought out the worst and the best of people.   Vivenne, having been used to shelter and high society living for the past of her life, was willing to set aside her differences but was terrible at hiding it.  Especially when camping in the rain.  She kept away from Solas and Cole, minding her own business until she saw reason to argue with them.  It was tiring, really.

            Cassandra and Varric scoffed and bickered, Solas offered words of advice and helped the Inquisition soldiers set up the camp, Blackwall and Iron Bull discussed certain battle armor and at the moment, seemed to be talking about bloodstone.  Sera seemed insistent in explaining some crazy theory to a poor Inquisition soldier, Cole wandered around, having been more human ever since he’d chosen the path. He bonded with people and had seemed to adjust to them remembering him. 

            Dorian settled on trying to make a bonfire for them to cook their dinner, despite the downpour.  Kievon and Dorian had been together for quite some weeks now, having made their feelings known just a few weeks ago.  It was constant flirting here and there, with some stolen kisses and heated moments. But nothing more than that. 

            They had stopped by the Storm Coast to destroy some red lyrium they heard about in the reports, hoping to stop a shipment, then they were officially headed back to Skyhold.  Their task was done, and they would be headed home come tomorrow.  Kievon was looking forward to it – he would probably only stay a week before he left again, off on some other Inquisition duty. 

            At times he hated being Inquisitor.  It stopped him from getting to know Dorian, from spending personal time with him.  But then again, he wouldn’t stop being Inquisitor.  He had a job to do.

            And at that moment, the mark on his hand was tingling.  It no longer hurt as it did when he first had it; instead, it tingled and pierced through his body like a warning.  He hadn’t the talent for magic, but he supposed the mark was a close resemblance. 

            He thought one last battle before they rested for the night wouldn’t hurt them, but first he would scout it out.  He headed over to Dorian who was leaning over a batch of soaked logs, trying to get them to light on fire.

            Dorian snapped his hands, the magic flame slinking over the logs, then sizzling out.  “They’re just too wet,” he muttered.  “Whoever left these uncovered in the wagon is going to get it.” 

            “Dorian,” Kievon said, leaning down so he spoke low in Dorian’s ear, “I’m going to check something out.  I’ll be right back.”

            “Don’t do something I wouldn’t do,” Dorian remarked, eyebrow raised. 

            “Of course not.”  Kievon made sure he still had his daggers, a twin pair of daggers he had found just the day before.  They were slim, sleek, and deadly sharp, and had proven more than useful in the past few battles. 

            His tucked his cloak tighter around him, the fabric just thick enough to block out the rain. His under armor was thankfully still dry, but this downpour could soon prove otherwise.  He’d best be done with the rift and back on his way.

            The Storm Coast was lined with rocky hills and fallen trees, and he stopped periodically to gather the medicinal herbs he spotted.  His time as a Dalish Hunter had proven useful during this time, having faced difficult battles and the time to make potions were becoming more and more apparent. 

            “Where are you going?” Cole asked, startling him, who stood over him, hands tucked behind his back.

            Kievon shoved the elfroot in his pack.  “There’s a rift nearby.  I want to check it and see if it won’t be bothersome during the night.”

            “It’s always there, demons leaking out, creating a disturbance in the forest.”

            “I suppose it would be best to get rid of it tonight, then,” Kievon sighed.  Cole’s insight to the unheard was undoubtedly useful.  “Let’s see what we’re up against, then we’ll grab the others?”

            Cole nodded, and together they crept closer to the rift.  The mark in Kievon’s hand was glowing a bright green, sending urgent tingles up his arm.  It was close.

            “I don’t understand,” Kievon muttered.  They stood up on a rocky hill, surrounded by slick, mossy rocks, several scattered trees and nothing else.  The sky was darker now, with nightfall just lingering not too far away.  “It should be right here.”  Camp wasn’t too far away if he wanted to head back – it had taken them just a little less than twenty minutes to head this way. 

            “Coursing, pulsing, unleashing.  The demons are here,” Cole said, eyes darting all directions.  “But unseen.”

            “I understand that.”  Kievon took a few steps forward, biting his lips.  The rift – where was it?  His hand was on the edge of bursting, and slight pains began to jerk up his arm.  It wanted to seal the rift.  “Where could it-” 

            His foot slipped against a rock and he fell backwards, the ground breaking and tumbling underneath him.  Grass and rock fell around him as he flailed wildly for anything to grab on, but nothing was within reach.  His back hit against something hard, which sent him tumbling down.  He managed to collide into another rock on his way down, his shoulder screaming in pain as he fell. 

            Suddenly he collided into the ground, landing directly on his arm.  He felt the bone in his arm snap, and he let out a yell in agony.  The throb in his arm seemed to pass through his body; his head ached and threatened to burst. 

            But that wasn’t the last of his pain.  He looked up to find that Cole had fallen with him – and his lower body was covered under a thick layer of heavy rock.  The large, awkward hat had gotten lost in the midst of everything, and his hair was blotted a deep red color. 

            “Ah, shit,” Kievon coughed, struggling to get up from his awkward position on the ground.  His arm was broken, and his hip was badly bruised, but he could still function. 

            Everything was covered in a hazy green light, which meant the rift had been underground and they had just fallen in the middle of it.  Kievon had to get Cole out of here as fast as possible, but as he looked around, he didn’t see much of a possibility.  They had fallen far into some forgotten, overgrown cavern – a small creek flowed through the cavern, with broken cobwebs covering the stones.  The rift was high in the cavern, the green light breaking and shifting as the fade threatened the real world. 

            There were no demons – not yet, at least.  The fallen rocks might have killed them in the process. 

            Kievon made his way to his fallen companion and placed a hand on the side of his face.  The wound on the side of his head wasn’t bad; it wasn’t split open, just scraped.  Kievon breathed a sigh of relief.  That was better than a split open head.  He hadn’t the tools nor the time in order to save him. 

           He prayed Dorian and the others had heard the ruckus, but they might’ve been too far away. 

            “Cole,” he whispered, tapping the young man’s face lightly.  “We need to get out of here, and I need you awake.  Can you hear me?”

            No response.  Kievon bit his lip, quite at a loss of what to do.  He set to taking off the rocks off of Cole’s legs, though with his broken arm, it was a slow process.  He managed to push a couple off before the rift shifted, and nearly exploded as green lights darted from the rift.         

            A wave of demons would be upon them.  Kievon cursed and straightened, drawing a lone dagger.  This was not how he had seen his night going.  _Oh, I’m just going to scout it out.  It’ll be easy._

_Easy my ass._

This was not how he had seen his last moments of Inquisitor being. 

            The demons that passed through made themselves known; a few wraiths and a terror demon.  All more equipped to fight than Kievon was.  The wraiths glowed their sickly green, hunching around in the forms and slinking around.  The terror demon screamed as it appeared, but did not approach them.

            The two of them were unnoticed, but for how long, he didn’t know.

            Cole groaned and his eyes slightly opened. 

            Kievon kneeled down, a finger to his lips.  “Shh, Cole.  How do you feel?”

            “Pain.  There’s pain in my right leg.  My head aches.  I can’t…”

            “Shh.” Kievon patted the young man on the shoulder.  His heart ached for him; ever since he accepted his more human side, he noticed his pain more.  He noticed his own conflict, heartache, and was more very much self aware.  As a full spirit, the pain probably wouldn’t have bothered him – it was a pain that could be fixed with healing.  But now as a human, he had to deal with his pain as a human did. 

            “You’re worried for me,” Cole pointed out, his voice on the edge of breaking.  “You don’t want me to feel like this.”

            “This is the one part of being human that sucks,” Kievon lightly chuckled, though his own pain made him cringe right after.  “Cole, can you move your legs?”

            “My left is fine, but my right… not right.  It has split.”

            Kievon’s heart skipped a beat.  “Split?”

            “Skin, connected.  But the bone has split.”  Cole had a quick intake of breath as he tried to shift his body.

            “Don’t move.  You’ll only make it worse.”

            “You cannot fight them on your own.”

            Kievon spit out a bunch of blood; where had that come from?  “I can damn well try.”  He stood, trying to steady himself on his feet.  He had been trained from a young age to hunt – to hide and kill the creature with ease so it wouldn’t feel pain.  Here, he’d have to do the same, but only so he could survive the battle.  He had to kill them as swiftly as he could.

            The wraiths were dangerous, sending out blasts of burning magic that devoured the skin upon touch.  He would have to swerve the blasts and be able to hit them as fast as he could –

            And at that moment, one wraith noticed him.  It was time to make his move.  He darted forward, dodging the bright acidic magic and jumped against the wall, using it to push himself off and dive at the wraith. His blade went clean through and the wraith disappeared, the traces of it falling back into the rift.  He shot toward to the next one and killed it before it noticed him. 

            The last wraith had fully noticed him by then and the terror demon had disappeared into ground.  He had to be light on his feet; he kept at a run, letting his instincts drive him away from the blasts of the wraith’s magic.  He twirled and brought the dagger down low in the wraith’s belly, causing it to disappear and sink back into the rift.

            Green light enveloped the ground below him and a scream echoed throughout the cavern. The terror demon had found him.  It shot up through the ground and a long, skeleton fist knocked him aside.  He crashed into the cavern wall and let out an airless gasp.  Terror demons were his worst nightmare.  They crept into his very soul and caressed his very will.  It weakened it, making his nerves stand on edge and his calm dissipate. 

            It fed on his terror.  Kievon had faced enough terror demons to guard his, but wounded and distracted, it was difficult.  He leaned backwards as the terror demon let out another fist, nearly losing his dagger as his hand shook in fear.  The terror demon followed after him, swinging his large fists to and fro.  Kievon didn’t know whether or not he could handle another beating from the demon.  He swung out his dagger, intending it to land in the side of the demon, but it disappeared back into the ground.

            Something gripped his foot and set him landing directly on his back.  Dots danced across his vision and he knew he wouldn’t survive long.  The sharp fist of the demon came cascading down and he moved his head to the side just in time. Dagger still in hand, he lifted it upwards and drove it into the demon’s ribs, causing it to squeal and back away. 

            “That’ll teach you,” Kievon grunted and attempted to remove the dagger, but the demon jerked away and placed a firm foot against his ribs.  The dagger was ripped from his hands and he was caught underneath the demon.  Kievon screamed at the pressure against his stomach, which would crush him at any moment.

            “Kievon!” he heard Dorian call out, always ready to save him when he most needed it.  The mage stood at the top of the cavern, bathed in the green light of the rift.  He twirled his staff and a blast of ice shot forward, freezing the demon in place.

            Varric stood next to him and raised Bianca, releasing several arrows in succession.  The arrows shattered the demon, sending it back into the rift. 

            With a strangled curse, Kievon attempted to lift his broken arm, being the one with the mark.  The magic from the mark swirled and shot forward, and he struggled to harness the magic to close the rift.  It was harder with a broken arm; the magic coursed through his veins and it almost felt like his arm was splitting in two. 

            He broke the magic and the rift closed, the green light fading, leaving them in pure darkness.  Night had fallen during their little episode. 

            “Hold on!” Dorian shouted.  “We’re trying to find a way about getting down there!”

            “Hey, I think this used to be a ladder,” Varric said, his husky voice low in thought.  “Can you do your magic and fix it?”

            “Can I do… of course I can!” Dorian huffed.  He lifted his hands and clenched his fists; remnants from a past forgotten ladder and platform called itself up.  Splinters of wood and nails reformed themselves, showing a spiral bridge surrounding the cavern.  It was impossible to tell how long the structure had been down.  What mattered then was just making it possible so Kievon and Cole could make their way up.

            “Cole’s caught underneath some rocks,” Kievon said, struggling to sit up. 

            Varric hurried his way down the spiral platform towards the young man and knelt down beside him.  “Kid, you all right?”

          “Pain.  Worry.  I shouldn’t have eaten that cheese, it’s going to come up.  I can’t help you.”

            “You’re right, that cheese was disgusting,” Varric huffed.  “I’ll deal with my own stomach later.  For now, let’s get these rocks off you.”

            Dorian kneeled beside Kievon, setting his staff aside.  “You didn’t say you were going to check out a rift.”

            “You can chastise me later.  For now, go help Varric get the rocks off Cole.  We’ll need to carry him back some how.”

            “The Iron Bull was on his way.  He’ll carry him back, if need be.”  Dorian laid a soothing hand on Kievon’s face and rubbed gently.  “Don’t do this again, okay?”  With the Inquisitor’s firm nod, Dorian moved to help Varric with the rocks.

            The next half hour was busy full of Inquisition soldiers with torches and everyone working to make sure the two of them were taken back safely.  Cole was carried in a make-shift stretcher back to the camp.  Kievon convinced the others it was okay for him to walk after his arm was bound firmly, but he had apparently hit his head as well as blood was running down the side of his face, but it was only a light head wound.  It had been bound with a makeshift bandage until they got back to camp.

            “Everyone’s wet,” Cole was saying, slightly delirious from the pain reducing herbs he had been given.  “Wet.  Chafing.  I can’t wait to get these clothes off.  I can’t wait to take _her_ clothes off.  It’s okay, she won’t mind.  That cheese was really terrible.  The pain will pass – we won’t be buying cheese from those farmers again.”  He kept rambling on about the soldiers’ and companions’ thoughts, much to some chagrin.

            “He’s going to be a hoot,” Dorian muttered from Kievon’s side.  He held Kievon’s hand tightly in his as if he was afraid to let him go. 

            “It’ll be interesting to see how his mind will work the next few days.  The herbs are probably clouding his mind and all the thoughts he’s feeling is just going to be even more mixed than before.”

            “And how are you feeling?”

            “My head’s a bit fuzzy and I want to do nothing more than sleep.”

            “That can be arranged. Your tent is all set up ready, Inquisitor.”

            The group made it back to camp and began to settle in for the night.  Cole was settled in his tent and Varric decided he would watch over him for the night, with Solas close by.  Kievon had his head wrap changed with a cleaner wrap, then made sure to take a potion in order to speed up the healing process.  Bowls of soup and bread were handed around and everyone began to retire to their tent, as the rain kept pouring down, making everything all the more miserable.

            Dorian grabbed a bowl of soup for the Inquisitor.  “I’ll follow you to your tent with it.”

            The Inquisitor’s tent was just a little bit larger than everyone else’s, though it was only set up with a small bedroll and his pack of clothing.  A small firepit was in the middle, lit and warming the tent considerably.  Kievon sat down on his bedroll with a groan.  “I can’t wait till we get to Skyhold.”

            “Skyhold’s only a week away,” Dorian responded, setting down next to him.  He handed the bowl of soup over to him, the bread soaking in the broth.  “Will you be able to eat?”

            “I can manage.”  Kievon grabbed the soaked bread and together, he and Dorian munched on their food. 

            “You look concerned,” Kievon pointed out once he was done with his soup.     

            “Oh, it’s just Cole.  He gets injured like any other person, but I’m recalling a conversation we’ve had before.  He doesn’t need sleep, or to eat.  Yet he does.  Or does he need to now that he’s accepted his human side?”

            “I suspect he needs to now.  Considering he’s more human.  That is why Varric decided to watch over him.  He needs to eat to keep up his body… or so I think.  Cole is an interesting young man.”  Kievon began to untie his pack to dig out his nightclothes.  “Solas didn’t approve of the decision to make him more human, but…”

            “In order to live in the human world, one has to be human,” Dorian agreed with a nod of his head.  He grabbed his bowl and set it aside.  “Well, Inquisitor, if you don’t need me…”  He stood up to move out. 

            Kievon reached out and grabbed the hem of Dorian’s cloak.  “Uh, Dorian.  You’re more than welcome to stay here the night.  If you’d wanted.  I know we haven’t exactly announced, well, us to the group, but they know.”

            “Ever since our midnight rendezvous at the Forbidden Oasis, I should think,” Dorian mused, leaning down with a grin on his face.  “But my bedroll is out there, and I can’t exactly think of taking you to bed when you have a broken arm and an injured head.  Let me grab my things, Inquisitor, and I’ll be right back.”

            “Right, of course.” Kievon let him go retrieve his things.  He wasn’t too sure why he suddenly felt like Dorian had to stay.  Over the past couple of weeks, they had kept their distance when it had come to sleeping – they hadn’t let others know about them, but they hadn’t stopped their flirting either.  Heck, Cole had practically announced it the other day when Kievon had been distracted by Dorian’s handsome face. 

            It was time, Kievon thought, to move things forward.  He would bring up the letter Mother Giselle had given him; he would tell Dorian of the courier would be in Redcliffe.

            “Iron Bull was smirking the whole time I was grabbing my bedroll!” Dorian announced once he entered the tent.  “It’s like he knows!”

            “Were we even trying to hide it?” Kievon laughed. 

            “No, but, still.  I’d like to think I’m a master at keeping secrets.”  Dorian laid down his bedroll and set his pack aside. 

            Together they changed into their nightclothes, hardly shying at their nakedness as they remembered their frisky night back at the Oasis.  Dorian’s nightshirt was shortsleeved and kneelength, trimmed with gold braids. 

            “Even the Tevinter nightclothes are fancy,” Kievon pointed out.  His was merely a large shirt here wore to bed, barely reaching past his thighs.  He set aside his belongings and watched as Dorian set the fire at the head of the tent, then moved onto his bedroll right next to the Inquisitor. 

            “This is a bid odd, I must admit,” Dorian said.  “Usually there’s a scene of intimacy, then we go to bed.  I’m finding everything to do with you is a bit backwards.”

            Kievon nestled down onto his bedroll, crossing his legs.  “And it’ll keep being backwards.  Dorian, I’ve something to tell you.  About your father.”  He reached into his pack and grabbed the letter.  He handed it to Dorian, who looked slightly shocked and pale.  “I want you to read this.”

            “What is this?” Dorian asked, his voice light.

            “Your father wrote Mother Giselle about wanting you to return.”

            Dorian read it for a few moments, then crumbled up the letter in his hands.  “When were you planning on letting me know?”

            “I was always going to let you know, I just couldn’t find the right time.”

            “It’s not even going to be my father to meet me-”        

            “Us.  I’ll go with you.”

            Dorian took a deep breath and tossed the letter aside.  “I can’t ask that of you.  You have a duty.”

            “A duty as Inquisitor, yes.  But also a duty to you.”   Kievon crept close to him and put his free hand on his beloved’s face.  “We’ll leave in the morning, and make the trip quick.  The others can come if they wish, but this is for you, if you want to go.”

            “Yes.  Yes, not that I want to go, more that I need to go.  I need to see what he wants.” Dorian sighed, leaning into Kievon’s hand.  “How is it that whenever you touch me, I never want to let you go?”

            “Funny.  It’s the same way for me.”  Kievon leaned in close and planted a soft kiss against the younger man’s lips.  “If I wasn’t injured, I’d let you know just how much I love you.”

            “Love is fickle, but…” Dorian lightly pushed Kievon back on the bedroll, leaning closely over him.  “I think with you, I’m willing to admit to myself this could be real.”  He leaned down and kissed Kievon firmly.  Suddenly he broke it, a wicked, pleased smile on his face.  “You know, there’s other ways to please a person when one can’t move that I could do, instead of you.”

            Kievon inhaled, smelling the lavender scent he’d come to accustom Dorian to, as Dorian slowly kissed the side of his neck, suckling and nuzzling the farther down he went. He let his hands trail down Kievon’s body, his hands lifting the nightshirt and lips kissing Kievon’s body as he made his way down.  His fingertips trailed the outline of his chest and over the scars Kievon had acquired over time.  His lips paused over Kievon’s nipple, then a small kiss and swish of the tongue sent shivers down Kievon’s spine.

            He was surprised they had waited this long to please one another, but then again, there hadn’t really been a time. And, gods, Dorian was good.  His skin was aflame with the simple kisses. 

            A simple touch of Dorian’s hands against his thighs and he arched his back in anticipation.  It had been too, too long since he’d last felt the simple pleasures of the flesh.  Taking his sweet time, Dorian kissed his body as he moved his way down until he was just above Kievon’s now-erect member, currently bulging against the smallclothes he was wearing.  Dorian began to untie the smallclothes and before he went any further, he asked in a quiet, husky voice, “Do you wish me to continue?”

            In response, Kievon parted his legs farther and with that, Dorian grasped Kievon’s erectness between his mouth, using his tongue to caress the skin as he moved up and down with expert skill.  Kievon gripped the bedroll tightly as Dorian increased the speed and Kievon threw back his head in a gasp as Dorian continued to use his tongue.  Pleasure, mixed with sweat and anticipation, was building up in his body and he couldn’t, he couldn’t…

            There was a moment of release and he settled back down on the bedroll, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm his beating heart.  Dorian wiped at his mouth, a smirk on his face.  He nestled into his bedroll and nudged up close to the Inquisitor.  “I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

            “On the contrary,” Kievon breathed.  “I much rather liked it.  The things you do with your tongue…”

            “I aim to please.”  Dorian reached out and ran a hand through the Inquisitor’s red hair, then leaned in and brought his forehead against his.  “I am pleased to be at your side, _amatus_.”

            “Amatus?”

            “It simply means ‘loved one.’”

            “I like it.”

            “Good.  Because that’s what you are to me, very much so.”

            Kievon smiled and nestled up against Dorian.  Despite the hardships of the day, the near-death fight, it had come to a good outcome.

            They were together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
